The Second Time Around
by Loki Mischeif-Maker
Summary: What if The viel was an experiment in time, and Sirius didn't die at all, only found himself in his past? Sirius tries to come to terms with past and present, learn how to let some things be, and figure out how to do things the second time around.
1. Possible Hangover

**Disclaimer:** How flat can I put this? It's not mine, it belongs to JK Rowling. This is why her name is on the books, not mine. Besides, that is probably why Sirius Black died in the first place. The only profit I derive from this is pleasure in bringing ole Padfoot back.

**Author's Note:** I will admit up front that there are a couple of . . . AU-ish type things in this fic, mainly because Sirius doesn't die in this one. However, I'm not going to completely change the outcome of what happens before the series. I consider Sirius a mature enough man to understand that there are some things that just can't be changed and to let people make their own decisions, even if he knows the outcome and doesn't want it to happen. Besides, how could he get pushed through the viel if it didn't? Oh, the plot holes in time travel! Anyways, enjoy, and please give me feedback! Cheers! --- Loki Mischief-Maker

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The first thing I knew was the persistent ache in my head. Damn, what _had_ I _done_ last night? Either I was in St. Mungo's or I had one hell of a hangover. Gingerly I raised a hand to my temples, making sure they didn't literally throb, because they sure felt like it. I hoped it was just firewhiskey, because then Remus would hear me moaning in a minute or two, come in with a voice like thunder and at least try to help. 

"Are you alright?"

Well, it sounded thunderous, but the voice wasn't Remus's . It was female. Slowly, because thinking _hurt_, I tried to place it. Molly? No, Molly's was different, and she'd have lectured me before asking if I was gonna live. But I was sure I'd heard it before.

I opened my eyes, and felt as if the world was spinning. Definitely a hangover. I did catch thick red hair and almond-shaped green eyes before I felt so sick I shut mine again. But it turned on a light, alright.

_Harry . . . the Department of Mysteries . . . Death Eaters . . . Bellatrix . . . a duel . . . _Dammit, she must've hit me with something that killed me! "Lily?" I asked groggily.

She'd been leaning over me, clearly concerned. I'd just started to wonder how I'd bypassed the brimstone and _death_ felt like a hangover when she recoiled. "How do _you_ know my name?" she demanded.

I stared blankly at her "What d'you mean how do I know your— oh."

It took it that long to hit me— I blamed the headache. She'd looked rather young, but I'd taken it for my being fourteen years older than when I'd last seen her. But no— I wasn't in the _afterlife,_ I was in the _past_. Lily _Evans_ was staring at me, thinking I was a total stranger. Damn! My memory needed to come back completely so I could figure out what happened.

"Well?" Lily was glaring at me, and now I remembered how she always managed to intimidate me and James.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," I mumbled, pulling out the only lame excuse I could think of. I sat up, rubbing my temples. "This is one _hell_ of a hangover."

Lily didn't look entirely convinced. "Well, my name's Lily, too," she announced. "And you chose quite the place to have a hangover, sir."

"You in school?" I asked. The background was just beginning to come into focus, and I thought I could see the lake. That was both a blessing and a curse— it meant I didn't run the risk of running into the future Petunia Dursley, but I had one of meeting _myself_. I knew I'd made one idiot of a teenager, but I was never quite _that_ dumb.

"Yes. Hogwarts," she added, obviously (and accurately) assuming I wasn't quite thinking straight. But, Merlin, her voice still _hurt_. "Should . . . should you get to the nurse?"

Oy, the_ last_ thing I thought I needed was one of Madame Pomfrey's potions. I'd had enough of _those_ to last me a lifetime the first time I'd been in whatever date this happened to be. But whatever _really_ caused this headache was making it nearly impossible for me to think, and goodness knows I'd need to do _that_ to get out of Hogwarts without giving something away I didn't want to. I nodded, standing up and stumbling as my vision played tricks on me and my head spun.

"If this is what whiskey does—" Lily started.

"Please, no, Lily," I groaned, cutting her off. "You're voice _hurts_. _My_ voice hurts." I reached out for the nearest thing to steady myself with, which was the castle wall. Maybe I'd been thrown into it or something when I was forced through time.

"Steady?" she asked in a whisper.

My head had returned to throbbing rather than spinning, so I nodded. I followed her into the castle, wondering whether or not to go to Dumbledore as soon as Madame Pomfrey was done with me. But it'd be _years_ before Voldemort was defeated the _first_ time, and . . . oh. . . . I was confused, and my head just ached more fiercely for it.

This was probably why it took me a minute to hear Lily talking to me. "I said 'What's your name?'"

"S—" I stopped myself. She _knew_ a Sirius Black, and I hadn't changed _that_ much physically since I was that age. I couldn't tell her that. Quickly, before she noticed, I pressed on with the first thing that came to mind. "Scott. Scott Bl— Barker."

_Scott Barker_? For the last name, my mind must've touched Padfoot, but where "Scott" had come from I had no idea.

Lily, fortunately, was only half listening. Even if she heard me hesitate, she probably attributed it to the dizziness I was still trying to deal with as she led me through the halls.

She stopped dead. I ran into her, and ended up in a heap on the floor. I must've come off as graceful, then. Steadying myself on the wall, I got to my feet and glanced over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really, Mr. Barker—"

"Scott." No way my best friend's wife was addressing me like an old man, even if she wasn't actually married to him yet.

"Okay, Scott. Just nuisances, really." I caught a bit of a blush on her cheeks, though. Merlin, no— please say that didn't spell "James."

Oh, but it did. Something about us did it for me. I wasn't sure if it was seeing a long-nosed, scarless Harry— funny, when'd I start thinking of James in terms of his son?— Peter before he'd turned traitor, Remus without grey in his sandy hair or the stubble I'd gotten used to, or me. Teenage me, and that was probably the biggest shock of all. Lily, James, Peter, and Remus I remembered, hazy but still there; me I did _not_. I hadn't even seen a photo of myself at that age in a long time.

"Hullo, Evans."

I sensed a bad pick-up line, followed by a verbal smack in the face.

"Don't waste your breath, Potter," Lily snapped, brushing back her hair. I'd forgotten how distinct that gesture had always been. "I'm busy."

Harry got obstinacy from his dad. James's bullheadedness was Marauder legend. "Not too busy to say 'hi' to me, are you?"

I'd forgotten how cheesy those lines were, too. They'd used to make me want to hit him with a silencing spell (as a matter of fact, I think I _did_ that on one occasion; he nearly killed me afterward), but now I was fighting back a laugh. I'd forgotten how _bad_ he was at that game.

"Not too busy to say 'shut up', either," Lily countered mildly. Remus and the younger version of me snickered behind James.

"Who're you with, Evans?" that was _my voice_, and it nearly made my blood run cold. I can recognize _myself_, after all.

"I'm taking him to the hospital wing," Lily announced loftily, giving them . . . us? . . . that intimidating glare. "Now, _move,_ unless you want me to curse you." She gave James an extra shot of the evil eye. "Especially _you_, Potter."

"C'mon, Prongs," Remus muttered, tapping him on the shoulder. "Let her through." He started down the hall, James following reluctantly. I . . . Sirius . . . (oh, I give _up_) . . . joined them, and Peter scampered off behind. Prongs . . . it was at least fifth year, then.

"Thank you, Remus," Lily muttered, turning to me. "At least _he_ has sense."

Sensible Moony? Well, comparatively, I guessed. All this was making my head hurt worse, and it already felt as if I was balancing Mt. Everest on it. "Looks that way. . . . What year are you in?"

"Sixth. With _them_," she answered with a dark look in the direction they'd disappeared.

Lily seemed to sense more trouble for me, and she took me by the hand as she led me up the next flight of steps. Even so, I nearly toppled down cursing. "Are you _sure_ it's just a hangover?" she asked.

"You tell me. I can't even remember after a point, and that was before there was alcohol," I admitted honestly.

"Then it might not have anything to do with a hangover."

"Lily, I hope it's just a hangover. Otherwise I'm not sure _what_ it is, and I feel _bad_," I told her. "I don't want to do it again, you see."

She smiled. "You're a strange man, Scott."

"You don't know the half of it." And she wouldn't believe it even if I told her, so I decided just to leave it at that.

"I'm sure I don't." She chuckled a little at that, and through both the pain in my head and the confusion I felt, I grinned, remembering that laugh. God, I missed James like I hadn't believed until I'd seen him, but I'd missed Lily, too, and right now she was the one of the two I'd rather have here.__


	2. Uncomfortable Questions

I don't know how much Madame Pomfrey guessed when I came in behind Lily, but she said nothing, and only showed her usual briskness. She ordered me to sit down when she saw me stumbling, and turned to Lily. "How did he get here?" she wanted to know.

"Neither of us really know," Lily admitted. "He told me he doesn't remember _anything_ about getting onto the grounds this afternoon."

"Afternoon?" I asked hazily.

Both of the girls ignored me. Typical. Well, I guess Lily did think I might be drunk, and the nurse had a job to do. She turned to me after a little more of this line of talk. "You're memory has blacked out completely?"

"Well. . . . If you mean I can't remember how I got here . . . yes," I admitted, rubbing my temples. Why couldn't she just give me a headache remedy and tell me to get out of here?

"What's the last thing you can remember?" she pressed.

Oh, yes, I could happily tell her that. And what the hell was the reaction to that going to be, pray tell? It would just lead to more uncomfortable questions. I was preparing to lie, but for once in my life the truth actually came out. "I was dueling my cousin."

"And you think you have a hangover?" Madame Pomfrey asked incredulously. At least she didn't ask _why_ I'd been dueling my cousin, though I'd no doubt Lily would at the next opportunity.

"I _wish_ I had a hangover," I muttered.

"Well, who won the duel?" she asked. No accounting for the fact that sounds felt like thunder in my head at the moment. I'd forgive her if she'd actually _do_ something about it soon.

"I think she did. I doubt I'd feel this bad if I'd won. Unless I got drunk afterwards." Of course Bellatrix won. She sent me back in time, after all. I wondered if she'd had any idea what she'd done, and what she'd think about it if she did.

"Then it may be spell damage."

_May be?_ I had no doubt it was spell damage of some sort, and after having lost a fight to Bellatrix I wondered how she could announce it was anything else.

"Or, perhaps, a concussion," she added contemplatively/

Oh. I ignored my first comment. That made sense, too. But whatever it was, it amounted to a headache, both literally and figuratively.

She started poking at me, and I yelped in alarm. Lily was giving me rather an odd look after that, but I didn't worry too much about it. It _hurt_, and all I wanted was a headache cure and to get out and figure out what else I was going to do about the situation. I doubted I could do much but live the next twenty years over again, but that was going to take more than a little planning to pull off.

She finished after awhile and announced I had a concussion, and therefore it was no small wonder I was a little confused. "Good, now you can fix it and I can get out," I muttered. Lily giggled behind her, and Madame Pomfrey shook her head. It was hard to judge the volume of my voice when even speaking softly sounded like thunder, and apparently I'd misjudged it. "Well, if you're so eager," she told me, "I'll see what I could find."

She disappeared for a moment and Lily turned to me. "Why were you dueling your cousin?"

"Because she was trying to kill me," I mumbled, hoping Madame Pomfrey would return with whatever cure she could find soon. Lily's questioning could only get more uncomfortable from here, and sure enough, she followed that up with another one.

"Why was she trying to kill you?" she demanded. "Doesn't sound much like a family member."

"She's not," I grumbled. "She was trying to kill us because we were trying to stop her and happened to be the one in front of her when she finally started cursing people," I mumbled.

Lily still looked rather confused, but I wasn't sure how much I could really explain to her."And what the _hell_ was she trying to do then?"

"Multiple things," I muttered, burying my head in my hands, any part of my face that might still have been visible hidden by my hair. I considered that a good thing. "It's really difficult to explain."

I felt Lily sit down beside me, and when I chanced a glance in her direction she was staring at me with some worry in her eyes. Whether she was worried about me or my sanity I didn't want to know. "What's so difficult to explain about it?" she asked softly.

"It shouldn't have happened, and even after it did, _this_ shouldn't happened, and there are too many knots in the tangle, and _I'm _not even sure what happened for sure," I muttered under my breath. It came out faster than I'd expected, and I'd given her every reason but it hadn't really happened yet before I could stop myself.

She shook her head, apparently thinking things over. "So you live down in Hogsmede?" she asked, changing the subject. Thank goodness Lily was always good at picking things like that up.

"Not exactly."

"Were you down there this morning?" she asked.

"I hope to hell so. Otherwise I ended up a long way from where I started, and then I'm not sure I really want to know why or what was going on."

She blinked at that, and shook her head. "So much for tactfully avoiding that point in the conversation," she muttered under her breath.

I smiled weakly at her and lifted my head back up again. "Some things just lead back to it. So, what's been going on around here?"

She seized the opportunity to make me a little more comfortable, and I thanked God Lily was like that. She explained things, particularly an incident in which James and the younger me had turned a desk into a horse in transfiguration which I vaguely remembered and she was quite upset about. She glared at me when I laughed at the memory of how livid McGonagall had been afterwards and snapped at me that it wasn't at all funny.

"It all depends on how you look at it," I told her, and the incredulous look she gave me nearly started me laughing again. Lily _would_ have been irritated.

Finally, Madame Pomfrey came back with a potion. Muttering, I let her grumble about my stupidity and fuss over me some more. Apparently, her great need to do it didn't stop when someone graduated. "There," she announced after what felt like much longer than it probably was. "I'm done. Are you happy now?"

Not really, but I'd live. "I'd seen enough of this wing by the time I got out of here," I muttered to no one in particular.

"Accident prone?" Lily asked.

I outright laughed at that suggestion. "You could say _that_," I admitted. "You could also say I was a bit more prone to trouble than I was to accidents, too. Well, more than a bit. Think your Potter and Black."

"You would be, Scott," Lily muttered.

"Hey, I got smarter in my old age," I told her with a grin. "Smart enough not to cause hell for the pure fun of it, at any rate. I still cause hell, but I've usually got a reason for it now."

"Usually?" Lily asked slyly.

"Well, I can't say I don't _enjoy_ picking fights," I admitted, shrugging. "If I didn't I wouldn't do it so much, after all, would I?"

"So if you didn't you'd show some actual sense?" Lily asked.

"Yeah," I admitted. "But sometimes you _can't_ be sensible," I muttered, remembering two particular incidents in the past— going after Peter and going after Harry— that I hadn't acted with any brains and had never regretted a moment of it. And probably never would, at any rate. She might not have understood it then, but eventually she would.

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Author's Note: (is in absolute shock) How did I get twelve reviews for chapter one? How? I'm in SHOCK. Well, anyway, thank you everyone who reviewed, y'all are awesome! Thank you, too, to Dadaiiro, for pointing out that there's one plot hole I was going to try to get around but can't. I may be a little longer getting the next chapter up due to the necessity of figuring out how to get Sirius employed (preferably near Hogwarts). Ah, well, we do that. I'm also well aware of my negligence in solving mysteries. . . . I will tell you what's what eventually, I promise, but don't expect Sirius to explain everything to his past (I HATE that). As usual, please tell me whatcha think! Cheers! — Loki


	3. More Questions Than Answers

When Madame Pomfrey let me go (after a long treatise on the effects of dueling, a lecture I'd gotten too many times when Snape actually got a curse in edgewise to pay any attention to), I prepared to get out of there and think things through. Lily, presumably to make sure I got out of there alright, followed me through the castle halls. It may have been the nice thing to do, but it would also inevitably create more questions than I had answers to.

After Peeves showed up, with the rather uncreative trick of pulling the carpet out from under us— which didn't work too well, anyways, both of us knew the poltergeist too well— I retaliated by turning him green. Lily stared at him as he swooped off cursing like a sailor. I grinned the old maniac grin. "What, never seen that trick before?"

"No, Black did it to Snape once, except his spell went bright pink."

I'd forgotten the old fondness for retaliating by turning things colors. I didn't say another word about anything until we'd gotten stuck waiting on a moving staircase. Lily leaned down, looking onto the floor beneath us, but after all the flip-flops my stomach had already done today I didn't think it was up for it. "Filch is chasing Black and Potter again," she commented.

I really didn't fancy reliving one of those experiences with all the cursing he did normally, even as a spectator. I'd explained away far more learned profanity than had actually resulted by Filch's mouth. "Again?" I just asked lazily.

"Yes, again; they get in trouble _all the time_. One of their best friends is a prefect and you'd think he'd have put a stop to it." Lily sighed and shrugged. "Than, I may be asking too much for those two to stop goofing off."

I shrugged. "Oh, give it a beak, Lily— I did the same thing."

She snorted. "You _would_ Scott, and I can already tell that much."

"Apparently so," I answered dryly, "considering you don't seem to trust me to get out of a castle I spent seven years learning my way around on my own."

Lily shrugged and glowered loftily at the ceiling. "Madame Pomfrey _did_ say that she could cure the physical bruising, but the confusion had to wear itself off," she reminded me in her defense. "We don't know what part of your brain it decided to addle—"

"I didn't know I had brains that weren't already addled," I was unable to avoid breaking in wryly.

Lily muttered something about it being "typical", though of what she didn't specify. I s'posed it was men— after all, we did the same for women all the time. The staircase met it's next floor, and we ambled down it, in time to hear Sir Cadogan shout something at us. I couldn't help but grin— idiot knight had let me into the Gryffindor common room Harry's third year when no one but me had known it was Peter instead of me.

_Harry. . . ._ The thought of the fat little knight had somehow gotten me on that line. Frankly I wondered what they thought happened to me; as both Dumbledore and Remus had been there I was pretty sure all the kids had turned out alright, or at least without fatalities. I hoped the Death Eaters hadn't gotten that lucky.

_But what had Bellatrix done?_ I had my doubts it was a spell— killing me would've been much simpler. And I'd had very little idea what was going on around me— the only things I'd been paying attention to at the time were Bellatrix and keeping from getting too close to any of the kids. While Madame Pomfrey had managed to get rid of the headache (which was frankly a miracle within itself) my memory of what had been happening in the Department of Mysteries was still pretty hazy.

I didn't realize Lily was talking to me again, until she yanked me out of the way of suit of armor and told me if I always payed _this_ much attention to where I was going, then she understood how I'd managed to get a concussion dueling. I retorted that I was preoccupied figuring a few things out, like how I'd ended up on the Hogwarts ground.

"Ah," she replied, shaking her head. "Any answers?"

"No," I grumbled, "but that's certainly not from lack of effort." Lily hadn't let go of my hand, apparently still not trusting me to avoid anything else in my way. Then again, after the performance I'd put on getting up to the hospital wing I wasn't too surprised.

We got onto the ground without further mishaps, mainly because I saved the racking of my memory for when I was sitting in one place without a sixteen-year-old girl hammering me with reasonable questions I couldn't answer, either because it gave too much away or I simply didn't know.

After saying goodbye to Lily, I headed in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest. When I was sure nobody could still see me even if they were looking, I changed into Snuffles and went deeper into it, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

One thing was fairly sure, and that was I was on my own. I doubted I could satisfactorily explain things even to Dumbledore, who before had at least known half the wrong story. The other was that my only actual recollection of the next two years was the goings on up at the school— I'd be less confused if I stayed near Hogwarts, and some part of me wanted to stay near it anyway. I hadn't seen Lily and James for fifteen years, and I didn't want to give up the opportunity.

Since Lily was always pretty good with names (she only had to yell at me and James once before we were in her vivid memory as nuisances for the next six years), it seemed that I was going to stay under the name I'd come up with on a moment's notice.

That figured out, I turned to slightly less interesting things— Bellatrix and the mysteries of the future could wait until I had a vague idea of what I was doing for the next twenty years. First thing was first— I needed a job, since I hardly intended to spend the next twenty years in the Forbidden Forest. The biggest method of doing that in the wizarding world, like most worlds, was the government, but the minute that occurred to me I decided I'd be damned if I was working for the Ministry. The other easy course of action was Hogsmede, which both kept me close to the school and was actually easy to find.

The whole plotting out of at least the next few months had taken me most of the remaining afternoon and farther into the forest than I'd been before hiding from Dementors in it. Ah, well, I knew my way around easily enough, making my way to the edge and becoming a man again only after I could see the village through the trees.

Even if the last time I'd been in Hogsmede I'd been on four legs, I could see it wouldn't change much in twenty years— same people, same shops, and not even much more wear and tear— the constant visitation of a teenage population kept it in pretty good shape.

The usual assorted crowd of people who weren't necessarily human were wandering in and out of the Three Broomsticks, and I half considered going down to the Hog's Head and seeing if the barman that had once caught me and James playing knock-and-run there on an exceedingly boring visit (Remus and Peter wouldn't have anything to do with it, and Hagrid had had to rescue us) was still around. Honeydukes was pretty quiet; it really only really woke up on Hogsmede weekends, but the post office was nearly as bustling as the Three Broomsticks. I felt pretty much at home here, having spent nine years in and out of these streets.

Zonko's had a help wanted sign out in front of it. I stood for a moment considering whether or not to go in— pushing forty was more than a little old to be clerking a joke shop, but on the other hand I wasn't likely to come up with much else in the way of better ideas, and Zonko's was easily the place here I knew the most about. "Like being old for something's stopped me before," I muttered finally, opening the door.

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**Author's Note:** I'm still a bit curious to know how I've gotten so many reviews on this one. . . . Well, anyways, I'm shocked I managed to get this one out in a reasonable time, getting our mass murderer employed was more than a bit of a challenge (**Sirius:** I am _not_ a mass murderer, and the only reason it was difficult was that aurors work for the ministry. **Me:** Yes Padfoot, I know, and we love you anyway). I'll also tell you that the humor at best is going to get gradually darker as the story gets longer, because the major plot of this story is Sirius's fight to understand he has to let Peter be his own man (that's not a spoiler, since we all know what happens), and therefore I'm taking the story quite a ways. Anyway, to answer a few questions— no, CountessMel, Sirius will not end up going to Dumbledore (he _would_ have to much pride), but that doesn't mean he's not going to think about it. Moony, well the first comment was that it might be spell damage, I think that's two paragraphs above what you quoted (don't worry, remember: I missed Ginny's add in Lonely Hearts). Otherwise, let's see, if you're reading this, I beg of you to review it (ANY opinions are more than welcome), and thanks so much to those of you that already have! Cheers! — Loki 


	4. Settling In

"You have a job?"

"I didn't think I needed to say it about thirty times, dear— yes, I have a job! I wouldn't've had the nerve to go over here if I didn't. Satisfied?"

"Not really. You have a job, and yet you don't have any money?"

I came suddenly to the conclusion that things would have been much easier if I'd gotten an advance out of them. Unfortunately, it had been far too long since there wasn't a price on my head, and that had made answering "Help Wanted" adds just a shade on the difficult side. "Yes. It's been a long trip."

Rosmerta raised an eyebrow. I grumbled "You have no idea how long," under my breath too low for her to hear. The redheaded woman— interesting how both the people who had been prodding my with questions I didn't have good answers for today were female and fire-haired— nodded slowly. "So you don't have any money but you have a job?" she asked again.

I sighed at the circularness of this conversation. "Yes. I believe I said that— several times, in fact. Look, if you're not going to believe me it's just down the street." I grinned at her, hoping to call up some of the old charm. I was sure it hadn't gone entirely, it was just too rusty because all the females my age I'd been around anymore knew exactly what I was trying to do.

Rosmerta still looked skeptical.

I sighed. "I really don't want to spend the next two weeks camping out in the Forbidden Forest," I announced.

"So you're telling me you can't apparate somewhere?" she added.

I cast my mind around for any place where I could apparate and stay, but obviously I came up with a blank— to everyone I'd known in the seventies I was sixteen. "Well, I could apparate somewhere but it wouldn't do me any good," I said finally.

It took a couple more questions about my credit— all of which I was sure I'd already answered— before she gave in, thankfully— to say the very least, the Forbidden Forest beat Azkaban but definitely does not count in the list of most pleasant experiences in my life.

Once certain I was alone I could really concentrate on what had gotten me there— I didn't want someone to overhear in case I started talking to myself. Pretty slowly, I started to reconstruct the Department of Mysteries. We weren't anywhere near the prophecies, but we'd apparently been far too late to head them off early. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix, and some of the other escaped Death Eaters had been there.

Tonks had headed off Bellatrix first— it took me a minute to remember what had gotten her out of the fight. Hopefully it wasn't too serious; but I think she was just unconscious. Moody'd been the first of us out, which was something of a surprise— in his prime he'd have been the last one left standing. One of them was still after Harry and Neville Longbottom. Well, Harry, really, but it'd taken both of the boys to get him off. Dolhov finished with Moody and went after them, from when I could make out.

I'd gotten the one I was after off of me by then, and we all knew that Harry and Neville were getting by in a duel half on pure luck. I'd gone after them. Harry'd actually dispatched Dolhov with the body bind— now that he wasn't being choked I guess he could think straight. The third Death Eater to come after them— Bellatrix— had to get through me first. I'd told Harry and Neville to run for it then. Course, Lucius Malfoy had gotten in the way until Remus had tried to handle things. Kingsley was still fighting one of the original Death Eaters he'd attacked, and to say the least the Department of Mysteries wasn't the best place for an all out wizarding battle. . . .

Dumbledore'd finally shown up— that stopped most of the fighting, but it'd've had probably taken Voldemort to stop Bellatrix, so we were still at it on a dias. I'm not about to deny I hadn't been enjoying myself to some extent— like I told Lily, I'm a hell raiser anyway, and Bellatrix being family I had a special animosity towards her. She was after me with something red— the only red I could remember then was a stunner, and somehow I had my doubts she'd been using that. It wasn't the killing curse, though; that's green and besides, she must've hit me— else I doubt I'd've run into anything.

But what had I run _into_? I sat back a moment, trying to remember what room we'd been in, but the fact that I knew almost nothing about the Department of Mysteries didn't help things any. It was pretty empty, otherwise there would have been even more mayhem in there, but I doubted there would have been nothing. What had happened was coming a little clearer, especially before. I thought she'd hit me with a spell, I'd fallen, and then . . . the next thing I'd remembered was waking up with a headache with Lily leaning over me.

What _had_ been in that room? I tried to rewind my memory to we'd come in— I could remember Harry, Neville, a bunch of Death Eaters . . . and a pretty big room with some kind of arch in the middle, draped over with black cloth. Had she pushed me through _that_?

Well, everything in the Department of Mysteries was dangerous, I knew that much, so the veil must've been some kind of experiment. Funny how it wasn't with other things on time; goodness knew they were probably trying to make sense of time turners and Shrinking Solution and anything else that changed age or time. The fourth dimension— funny how that theory came to me now.

Well, at the very least it was a little confusing— I may have been twenty years before where I was supposed to, but I wasn't a wanted man anymore, which results in more than a little more freedom to get out and figure things out without relying on other people's reports. Granted, being twenty years older than most of the people I knew literally for the rest of my life was going to end up an interesting experience.

As far as I was concerned, some idea of how I got here was going to have to stay good enough— as far as everything else, I'd deal with it as it came.

**Author's Note:** Short chapter. Buffer chapter— in essence I wrote this purely to clear two things up before I got into the main plot. I also wrote the majority of that while pouring over my copy of the fifth book, so yes, it was kind of technical. I think that since I've got _that_ mystery solved, though, I can get onto the more interesting parts of the story— in other words, the actual plot. I'll reintroduce Lily and maybe the teenage Marauders next chapter (if no for the boys, the chapter after that), and then we can continue through until I get Sirius back to where he should've been (skipping years in the process, but that's because the main plot concerns mostly who we've already met). As for my reviewers— thank you very much! CountessMel, I must confess to not having a clue as far as what you're talking about, so if you care to explain. . . . Well anyway, all comments are still appreciated (I know I say that in every A/N, but that's because it's true), so let me know what you think! Cheers! — Loki


	5. Hogsmeded Weekend

Staying in Hogsmede was one of those "maybe if I had any sense I wouldn't have" things. These are things that are pointless meditating on because I _have_ no sense and so end up doing them anyway. At any rate, the first Hogsmede weekend I was around for caused more than a few close calls.

I'd ignored the first couple of Hogwarts robes I'd seen— after all, what were the chances? The population of this village had to have swelled by several hundred at least, after all. Actually, I probably would've gotten by completely if I hadn't run into Lily at the Three Broomsticks.

It was around noon, and I was attempting to flirt with Rosmerta— the woman was busy, and besides, she may have figured out what I was doing after two weeks, and so she brushed me off. It had also registered, vaguely, that I was older than she was now, by ten or fifteen years. Lily wandered in alone. Rosmerta made the final step of brushing me off by wandering off to ask her what she wanted. After the woman was gone, she turned to me with the half grin that proved to me she recognized it all. "Bad luck? I take it you're head's better?"

"Well, it doesn't hurt if that's what you mean, but there's still definitely something wrong with it," I quipped, nodding. "Lily Evans."

She started, staring oddly at me. "I don't seem to remember telling you my last name."

Damn— slipped again. I just knew too much about that girl not to. I shrugged, trying to recover. "I think I know you from before. I mean, what are the odds of my knowing two green-eyed redheads names Lily Evans?"

She shrugged, playing with her butterbeer. "Well . . . you're right, but I don't remember you from before, Scott."

"You might not. It's been years," I said honestly, shrugging.

Lily seemed to accept this explanation, at any rate she turned to another point. "You told me you didn't live in Hogsmede."

"Up until about two weeks ago I didn't."

Lily accepted that, too, and she glanced over at Rosmerta with a grin on her face. "So you got blown off by Rosmerta, did you?"

"In my defense," I said loftily. "She wouldn't have stood a chance back in my prime. Unfortunately, it's been a while and I'm rusty. Give it two weeks and she'll listen to me. Attentively."

Lily chuckled. "Sure, Scott, sure."

"What, you don't believe me?" I asked, absently casting my memory on a series of failed lessons on charm I'd given to James. They'd failed because Lily was apparently immune to them, and they had greatly amused both Remus and Peter. James had sworn until the day he died that it was _not_ operator error.

"I know enough men who think so much of themselves in that line and have watched them fall flat on their faces, so yeah," Lily answered.

_Undoubtably James is on that list, and maybe me, too,_ I thought absently. "Any particular reason you're alone?"

"Sam and Alice both had dates," Lily answered with a shrug. "I mean, Frank's fine but I don't want to interrupt, and I told Sam this was not going to make me like or speak to Roger."

Roger— he'd been the Gryffindor Keeper, and Sam Walker was another Chaser. That stood to reason— Lily'd thought half the Quidditch team were jerks, and Sam had been the exception. By Frank and Alice I assumed she was talking about the Longbottoms— they were a year ahead of us, but I remembered seeing Lily and Alice around from time to time. "And you don't have a date?"

"Um, no. For some reason all the boys don't seem to want to tread on James Potter's ground, despite the number of times we've been through the idea that I'm not his girl; he just thinks that. Eventually even he should have enough sense to cut it out."

"I wouldn't be so sure," I murmured. "Guys can get pretty stubborn."

"So can girls," Lily announced, glaring at me like I might challenge it.

"Sometimes I think you girls have no idea how stubborn you actually are," I muttered, something like a grin absently crossing my face.

"What makes you say that?"

"You sure you aren't just playing hard to get with James Potter?" I asked.

Lily looked affronted, and predictably she almost shoved me off my chair. "What on _earth_ gave you that idea? Merlin, no! I wouldn't date him if he were the last man on earth," she added absently.

"You're sure?"

She shoved me again. "You're thinking like _he_ is, Scott! I was under the impression that you were capable of more sensible behavior."

"Just because I'm capable of it doesn't mean I do it," I told her with a shrug. "Besides, to a certain extent all guys think alike. It's how you girls claim we're so predictable."

Lily snorted. "You're predictable because you are."

"That's teen logic right there, alright," I muttered with a grin. Lily appeared to consider shoving me but decide against it, which was good as my shoulder was beginning to hurt.

She shook her head. "You know, if Sirius Black ever used that sense Remus claims he has, he might be a lot like you in thirty years."

On one hand, I choked on butterbeer. On the other, I managed to recover in a way that might not have seemed so weird to her. "_Thirty years?_ Lily, I'm not that old! Maybe in around twenty. _Maybe_."

She snorted. "And my mother claims its only girls who worry about their age."

"We're usually better at hiding it," I told her with a grin. "Now, what's going on with you before you get me to divulge my actual age."

Quite a lot, apparently. McGonagall, she'd apparently decided, must be in a bad mood with the number of detentions she'd given last class (I was willing to bet I could guess the number— four). She was having some trouble in Potions, and Sirius Black's abhorrent (her word, not mine) aim with Expelling Charms had caused him to hit her in the back of the head with his Transfiguration book. James was still being a thorn from time to time, and this morning he'd cursed Snape again for calling her a Mudblood without giving her so much as half a second to react. She shoved me again when I suggested chivalry.

"Anything remotely resembling cheerful?" I asked.

Lily laughed. "Of course; I'm just trying to figure out how I'd forgotten it. Frank Longbottom finally called up the courage to do what everyone but Alice knew he'd do eventually for several years now. He proposed to her. Alice's face was hilarious; she'd never guessed."

I kept her talking on that line for about fifteen more minutes— it was one of the few things we weren't likely to pop up in, as we were involved in just about everything but romance— even though I knew the details of Frank and Alice's marriage better than she did at the moment. Eventually, however, I glanced at the clock. "Wow, I've gotta get back to work."

As always, Zonko's attracted a crowd when Hogwarts students were here. David glanced up from the counter when I came in. "Good, you're back. I'm going to see if we're not _completely_ out of Dungbombs, then I'm taking my break."

I shrugged in reply to that. Frankly, it stood to reason to me that the one day we were busy we'd run out of Dungbombs— Filch was always pestering Dumbledore about banning them from the halls.

David came back, announced that we were very close if not out and that he wasn't going to search very hard if I wanted to, and left. I shrugged again and turned back to what was going on.

I had just finished explaining to a girl where the vanishing ink _usually_ was when I caught one of the voices it occurred to me I'd run into eventually— Peter's. "Excuse me?"

It being Peter's voice instead of any of the other three, it took some effort to turn and face him, with the other three of us with him, actually. "Hello, boys."

**

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Author's Note:** Please don't kill me about the cliffhanger . . . and please review. Actually, I write A/Ns looking at reviews just before I put them up (somebody made comment), and I just realized I've got two that don't really bother telling me about the story, which is, to a certain extent, my pet peeve (**Sirius:** Second only to stupidity, actually. It even beats the Malfoys and Snape! **Me:** Do shut up, Padfoot). My inability to be completely sane in A/Ns is another matter. . . . Oh, and before anyone points it out, I found out recently that the room in which the viel is in is actually _called _the Death Chamber, so I guess this is definitely AU. Anyway, please tell me what you think; I promise I'll get into the boys later! Cheers! — Loki


	6. Reaquainted With The Boys

**Note:** From this point on, the teenager/younger Sirius will be referred to as Sirius. I doubt it will be too confusing, since the first person is from the older one.

* * *

Peter and Remus were the only ones paying attention to me, actually— James and Sirius had unsurprisingly started an argument, and Remus kept glancing back in case he needed to break them up. It was so typical of all of us I almost laughed— the long-suffering look across Rem's face was particularly reminiscent of when I was the one there. It hit me for the first time that I _was_ the one there. "Yes?" I asked, a little quickly.

Peter looked taken aback. I'd almost always had to look down to meet him in the eye, but with me at full height and him almost four inches under his the result was exaggerated— even James was taller than Peter, and we used to tease him to about being that short, and when we commented that Harry looked just like his father, I'd jokingly remark that he was going to hate James's genetics if it came to height.

I shook my head, trying to come back to things that were happening or had already happened. Remus looked from me to Sirius rapidly. "Good lord," he muttered. "Sirius, are you related by any chance?"

The younger me looked up, and met my eyes. In my case, it was a moment of pure panic, and for the other version probably shock. "Not unless my mum blasted him off the tapestry before I can remember," Sirius said at last, "and I'm sure _someone_ would have commented how much we look alike." He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "Maybe they'd explain the 'Black sheep' thing that way. . . ."

Remus turned expectantly to me, lifting a questioning eyebrow. "Do you know if you are?"

"I doubt it. 'Barker's not a pureblood name; the way he said black sheep it sounds to me he's a Black," I answered carefully. "Striking coincidence, though."

The four of them glanced from one to another, finally shrugging. "Well, Wormtail?" James asked finally. "You didn't get his attention to ask if he was related to Padfoot, did you?"

"I doubt he noticed," Sirius answered dryly.

"Well . . . no . . . I didn't," Peter admitted. He turned back to me, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at the slight confusion. Looking at things from _their_ perspective, it seemed pretty straightforward— it was me who had the right to be confused. "Mr. Barker—"

"My name is Si— Scott," I corrected, both him and myself. The name change was going to take a little getting used to.

"Scott. . . ." Peter amended. He mumbled something under his breath. James, Remus, and both of me rolled our eyes. Ole Wormtail went red.

"Another thing to add to our list of things to do— get Pete comfortable talking to girls and adults," Remus muttered. "You act like he's going to curse you," he added to him.

"This is Zonko's," I pointed out. "You never know."

Remus gave me quite the look. Peter glared back at him. "I'm just a little surprised— it's not every day that we meet someone who likes like one of our best friends just thirty years older!"

"_Twenty_," I muttered. "_Twenty_." Half consciously I reached up to my hair— Moony had been worse but I was going grey a little fast, too. Azkaban had definitely done damage— no wonder they thought I was older than I really was.

Peter turned back to me. By now James and Sirius has resumed their tussle, and Rem kept glancing back, trying to decide if he needed to tell them to save it or not. "Well," Peter announced. "We were looking for Dungbombs, but they don't seem to be where they should be."

I shook my head. It would be. "We may be out, but David didn't look very hard before he left, and I'm the only one in here at the moment. What d'you want them for?"

Remus shook his head, and with a pickpocket's fingers slid Sirius and James's wands out of their pockets in case they decided to do something with them. "You don't want to know," he announced calmly.

"What doesn't he want to know?" James demanded. "D'you or don't you, Mr.—" I glared; being addressed like that by James was even worse then by Lily. ". . . er, Scott?"

"Your friend does not regard me as wanting to know what you planned to do with the Dungbombs you intended to buy. If it was spurred by overhearing the password to the Slytherin common room, I might go back and look. If it has anything to do with the library, I'll save you Pince's detention by not."

All four of them goggled at me. I laughed. "The Troublemaker's Hall of Fame should build a monument to me. I was honestly _that_ bad in school, so I am well acquainted with the punishments of just about every teacher in that building. I was also a Gryffindor, which accounts for the Slytherin comment."

"They've _dedicated_ that building to James and Sirius, I swear," Remus muttered. "Not that Peter and I don't have our places in it. Frankly, though, I've never had an adult admit to being mischievous like that before."

"I think having the terms 'troublemaker' and 'hell raiser' pinned on you regularly is a requirement for applying here," I said with a shrug. "So what were you planning."

"Let it be known that I, Remus Lupin, have had absolutely _nothing_ to do with this!" Rem exclaimed. "Peter Pettigrew," he added, indicating the chubby boy, "and James Potter and Sirius Black— that pair of lunatics behind me— did it all, and I think I may avoid participation, as technically its sabotage to do that during the Slytherin-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Those three will spend the rest of their natural lives in detention for this, and I'm _supposed_ to be keeping them in _line_."

I grinned. "Ah, the badge."

"Fat lot of good its done," Sirius announced cheerfully. "We not only cause hell without him stopping us, he's in on it half the time."

"Padfoot, shut up," Remus advised him.

"Of course not," Sirius announced indignantly. The sandy-haired teenager shoved him, but by the time I'd turned sixteen I had enough grace to keep my feet, if not much more.

"I believe I shall save you the tedium of spending an entire year in evening detention," I announced. "In other words, I'm still too lazy to go look, and I think it's a bit hard on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. How're the teams this year, anyway?"

I'd asked the right question to keep them talking at me for fifteen minutes, especially James, who'd had to complain loudly about losing one of the other Chasers and the Beaters on the Gryffindor team. Sirius announced several times that if his head was as big as Evans apparently thought it was, than he should think he'd have no problem even without Sam Walker's help. James offered to help Remus drown him, as he had apparently been threatening to do that morning. It was Rem that finally admitted that the Slytherin team was pretty good, too. Pete insisted that Gryffindors always came out on top when it came to Quidditch.

For the most part, I let them talk while remembering those matches— I was back in the "old days", back before Voldemort's reign of terror was far too great and before I graduated. It finally struck me that that was true, listening to Remus try to get through our thick heads that a new team meant rearranging the advantages.

Finally, though, a Ravenclaw boy asked me what had happened to the wet-start fireworks, I turned to help him out, and the four of them wandered off. As the door closed behind them, I heard another word that brought back memories, not all of them particularly pleasant. My own voice— "Hullo, Snivellus."

"Clear the road," I muttered.

The argument, this time, must've been a long one, because it was four or five minutes before I heard a commotion outside. And apparently he had some friends with him, because it was a much bigger commotion than if it had been the four of us on Snape.

White hot pain shot up my left side a few moments later, and there was no real explanation for it. I yelped, got a few looks, and strove to ignore them. "Maybe someone needs to go break them up," I announced finally, heading for the door and opening it. "What in the _hell_ is going on?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, um . . . I just wanted to say I'm very sorry bout the little outburst in the A/N of last chapter, if I offended you or stopped your reviews in any way I didn't mean to! I just hate reviews that discuss: A/Ns, a review_ I_ gave _YOU_, or your stories; anything else I'm fine with. And I'm not so sorry about another cliffhanger. I'll stop doing it eventually, promise! Thank you all of you that _did_ review! Cheers! — Loki 


	7. Snivellus

I saw basically what I expected. The four of us had been dueling Snape, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus Lestrange— both a year older than the greasy haired little git we'd gone after. What interested me was that Bellatrix and Rodolphus weren't with their cronies— unless you counted Snivellus. All seven stopped when I poked my head out and yelled.

Remus had Sirius backed up against the wall, trying to tell him to relax without much effect— it was obvious then that he'd gotten hit with something, which meant I was deeper into my past than I'd thought. This left James and Peter to deal with the three of them— or more accurately James; when Peter was that age his aim was awful. Three to one odds would do any of us in— and it was obvious the Slytherins had the upper hand.

"Well?" I asked. "What's going on?"

No one seemed to want to answer me, even though it was perfectly obvious exactly what was going on. Finally, however, Peter grumbled, "They threw the first curse."

"But I heard Sirius throw the first insult before the door was closed," I announced, wandering over to Remus and him. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine," Sirius grumbled in reply. "At least I will be in a minute. I wouldn't've had any problems at all if Remus hadn't nicked our wands."

"I was trying to keep you and James from cursing _each other_," Remus replied irritably. "If I'd known we were going to get in a fight with Snape, I would have let you keep them."

"If it was just Snape we'd be done even without our wands."

"Not necessarily— he can get the upper hand if he has the speed advantage," the werewolf said dryly. "He knows at least as many curses as we do, after all." He glanced back at where James was helping Peter off the ground. "I guess we'd have two down for the count if it was still going on— they may have actually won this one, Sirius— and none of us can deny it."

"Definitely not if we don't try," the younger me pointed out.

"Will someone please explain to me exactly what was going on?" I asked irritably. I turned to glare at the other five who were watching me.

"You interrupted a duel," Bellatrix snapped at me. "Would you go away so we can finish?"

"No." I glowered at her, suffering from the urge to make this entire situation impossible by killing her now. "I need more information than that— if you've caused too much damage I'll have to turn you into the nearest teacher." Was that _really_ me talking, even to my cousin? It sounded more like something Lily or Remus might have said— last time I may have considered it, I would have said I'd just let them go.

"Sirius got the worst of it, and to hear him insist he's just fine," Remus said after a slight pause as they all considered how much trouble they'd be in— we weren't supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts anyway, after all, let alone attack other students. "But he has a point— if we'd missed we could have hit anyone, innocent bystanders included."

I couldn't help but glance around— despite the bustle Hogsmede usually was when the Hogwarts student body was here, the streets seemed pretty deserted— and smiled wryly. "I'll probably settle for knowing exactly what happened."

"Those three got to insulting us, and we're not about to lay down and take it," Bellatrix snapped. This conversation had to end soon or I _would_ change the future. "Or our house in general." She gave Snape something of a distasteful look— Snivellus might have been tolerated among the groups of future Death Eaters, but he wasn't particularly well liked around anybody.

Snape glowered back. "So much for chivalrously defending _you_," he growled.

"That's _my_ job," Rodolphus snapped. "I _did_ ask her to marry me after all, didn't I?" he added.

_So soon?_ I couldn't help but wonder— but I had run off by then, so I hadn't heard Bellatrix had gotten married until I heard she was wanted as a Lestrange instead of a Black. "If I were any of you three," I announced quietly, "I wouldn't be speaking of chivalry."

All three of them glowered.

"You have the disadvantage because you're speaking to someone who's biased against you before you started," I warned them. "You might have the best chance by keeping your mouths shut." I turned back to us. "Your version of events?"

Sirius shrugged. "Basically the same thing. We started a conversation— Rodolphus started to get irritated with us for calling him a Dark Wizard . . . then I called his girlfriend . . . um. . . ."

"Something you have no intention of ever repeating," Remus suggested.

"Well, not to anyone else," James muttered. "Well, anyway, he cursed Sirius and we got back and it's not as if Snivellus Snape or Bellatrix Black were ever able to resist a fight. Since Remus nicked our wands it wasn't particularly easy. . . ." He shrugged again. "Snape hit Sirius hard with something and that's basically when you came out."

"We behaved like idiots," Remus observed. "All of us."

"Well, yes," I muttered. "Actually, you have. Look," I turned to the Slytherins. "If I come here and see this happening again, I won't hesitate to go get someone with more power to stop this involved here. On the other hand, just scram right now; I'll let you off." I'd done it too many times myself— and the younger me was standing there trying to recover from a curse as proof of that— to put my foot down right now, but hopefully I wouldn't have to even think about it again. Though I highly doubted I'd scared them enough.

The three Slytherins still wandered off— none of them wanted detention for the next month, apparently. I turned back to the four of us. "That happen a lot?"

"You have no idea."

Actually, I did, I just wanted a shock absorber if I slipped up on something like the Marauder-Snape war and this was an ideal time to get.

"More in the halls where you won't have to catch us again, though," Peter observed. "And we usually win— because there's four of us, after all."

I nodded. "Well, you're in the halls more often— and it's been awhile, but there was a time I was in trouble for it nearly as much."

"Well we're just glad you _did_ show up," Remus announced, though I highly doubted he was right from James and Sirius's point of view. "We probably would have ended up with at least one of us at Madame Pomfrey's if you hadn't put a stop to it."

"Snape would have joined us at least," James announced darkly, glowering in the direction they'd disappeared.

"I don't doubt it," I answered dryly. "You weren't doing that bad for being outnumbered since Remus was looking after Sirius."

"And I didn't need to be looked after!"

"Yes, you did— you weren't exactly in a position to pick the wand back up. Maybe now, if we'd still been at it, but not before," Remus grumbled.

"Fortunately it's not now," I muttered. "You'll have scared everyone off the streets for half an hour."

"Seriously?" James asked. I grinned and nodded, only half joking. "Wow, we're better than I thought."

"Or more haphazard," Remus grumbled.

"Oh, shut up, you're taking all the fun out of my fantasizing," James told him. "Any of you have any idea where Lily is?" he added.

"If I did I wouldn't make her suffer through you," I announced with an evil grin.

James glowered. "I am _not_ that bad."

The other three Marauders laughed. "Well, we live through you," Remus admitted, grinning wickedly to rival mine. "But from Lily's point of view, you're right— you're worse."

**

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Author's Note:** Hm. . . Not really all that much to say right now— thanks everyone for reviewing. A Sirius Fan, there are about a million reasons to do with _time_ why I'm not going to change the future, not to mention my plot, though I probably will look into the dental/therapy thing (Lily is likely to realize that there's something a little wrong with "Scott" . . . and you're right; the man needs some help). I don't think there's anything else I need to answer— if you do, bring it to my attention! Cheers! — Loki


	8. Boredom on the Wing

Things slowly settled into a routine— a routine that was much easier to get into than adjusting to being called "Scott." I still hadn't given up on trying to flirt with Rosmerta, though the more I did it, the more she knew what I would drag out, and I think she may have been starting to get just slightly exasperated with me.

Work, too, settled into a pretty basic routine. David was not an easily excited men, to say the least, and in a joke shop, the potential of things to explode was great. Nevertheless, Zonko's existed almost solely for the Hogwarts crowds, things got fairly quiet. Like the weasley twins had been doing before I got pushed through the veil, I started playing with various things to see what kinds of effects I could get. In a couple of weeks the biggest effect I got was waking David up while he was dozing, which he got increasingly upset about. The idea that night existed for sleepign rather than day fell on deaf ears.

Once I was comfortable enough with the ruse to be able to write my name without having to cross my real one out or think about it, I started getting the _Prophet_ delivered, so I could keep up with what I _did_ remember about the world at large when I was sixteen, even if what I generally nicked the paper from Remus for had been Quidditch scores. The articles with Voldemort's name in them were sparse, few, and pretty far between. They still used his name, and the reign of terror had almost a year before it started to get bad— another few before the final straw of his had finally been pulled and he brought out the big guns. It was about two before the first Order of the Phoenix, too.

Life started to become uneventful, which after the past three years was almost a welcome change.

"Still at those experiments?" David asked one morning. He looked as if he'd barely bothered to change clothes after crawling out of bed, brown hair tousled.

"There a cyclone outside I missed?" I asked him absently. "We both know that eventually I'm going to come up with something halfway useful."

"Useful? Saleable, maybe, but I doubt you're capable of coming up with anything that's actually useful, Barker," he answered, pulling out the accounting. I'd told him point blank the only time he'd suggested I help that I was awful with numbers— failed my Arithmancy OWL, actually. Andromeda had claimed from time to time that my inability to do math may have had something to do with how often I got outnumbered in a fight.

"I could be useful if I wanted to be useful."

David snorted. "Scott Barker, you would scare me if you behaved usefully," he told me.

"Well," I answered, rummaging around in a drawer for something to poke the gelatin-like substance I'd come up with (I wasn't stupid enough to touch it with my finger or wand), "I know what to do for Halloween, then."

"Be helpful? It'd be nice if you scared me like that more than once a year."

I found a quill and poked the gelatin— which promptly exploded. "Not quite the effect I might like," I mumbled, trying to brush it off my face.

David, now properly awake, was staring wide-eyed at me. "I should think not. Did you fail your potions OWL, too, or something?" he added.

"Actually I did pretty well on my Potions NEWTs— I am _experimenting_," I told him, glancing over at him— he'd returned to the account books with a will. "Note to self— do not mix those three ever again, unless you're looking for an exploding device."

David grumbled something and shook his head.

I frankly had no definite aim in mind, and I got no nearer to finding something I could use to do something with that day than I had any other. After I'd wandered back into the Three Broomsticks around dark, Rosmerta looked up. "There's an owl in your room, you might like to know," she announced.

"What would an owl be doing in my room?" I asked her, puzzled.

"Delivering a letter, probably," she answered. "I did warn her about you, by the way, but she didn't move. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say another word to me."

"I am still not in shape," I announced.

She scowled a little at me and waved me up. "Go read your mail," she suggested.

I grinned like a maniac at her and took the suggestion. Sitting on the back of one of the chairs was a reddish-brownish barn owl with a cream face— Lily's owl. What was Morganna doing here?

Morganna wasn't sharp with me at least, ruffling her feathers slightly as I tried to get Lily's letter off, at least to check the addressee and make sure she hadn't been headed elsewhere, though I doubted it. Sure enough it was addressed to Scott Barker at the three broomsticks.

"Well, that's certainly interesting," I told the owl, who simply cocked her head at me.

Sitting down in the remaining chair, I slit the seal, wondering what, exactly, Lily had written to me for.

_"Dear Scott,_

_I've honestly given up on asking my friends about men, and my mother refuses to explain, but you seemed ready enough. Besides, I saw you having a conversation with him— if you haven't guessed already, I'm asking for help with James Potter. I CAN'T GET HIM TO LEAVE ME ALONE!! I haven't for three years, but if you have any ideas on getting the point that I'm not interested across, I appreciate them._

_Oh, and by the way, since you did seem to know them, too, Sirius Black managed to send him an Peter Pettigrew out of a second story window yesterday night. Idiot. Peter broke his leg in two places— Madame Pomfrey was fussing over Black and muttering about graceless imbeciles for a couple of hours, but he seems to be okay."_

I had to put the letter down for a moment to laugh— I remembered that incident, and Madame Pomfrey had indeed been livid, muttering various things about killing me instead of mending me. It had taken her forever, too— I'd been stuck with two cracked ribs and a concussion to add complications to what she could heal in an instant. It also explained why I'd woken up in pain yesterday night— apparently I had some kind of a connection to the younger me, though quite what it was or how far it went I'd yet to figure out.

_"Anyway, thanks._

_— Lily"_

"But answering your question takes all the fun out of watching you two stumble around figuring it out on your own," I mock complained at a whisper. As if Morganna knew my reply might irritate her human, she hooted at me indignantly, though it may have been that she'd put her wing over her head before I'd started laughing.

I found a quill, ink, and a scrap piece of parchment to reply to her on, knowing full well she'd find me infuriating.

_"Lily—_

_I believe we've stumbled upon the thing that's going to annoy you about me most. I've been enjoying watching the two of you try to figure it all out, you see— and if you've been trying to tell James that for over a year, the only actual way to stop him would be to find a date that isn't him. (I'm not going to blame you if you ball this up and throw it across the room for that.)_

_Sadly, us guys stick together. (Now I KNOW you're going to throw it across the room.)_

_Yeah, I'll talk to you later, alright? And avoid the subject of men entirely. . . ._

_—Sirius"_

I rolled the letter up, sealed it, and wrapped it around Morganna's leg. She glowered at me for a few moments, then swooped out the window. I sat watching her ans laughing. Lily had a friend in me, definitely, but I'm just _not_ the person to ask concerning dating.

**

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Author's Note:** I've done my best to explain a couple of things, but I need that element of mystery. . . . Dadaiiro— I did give you the explanation you wanted, right? Yeah, um. . . . I had the last week of marching band, on top of writers block. . . . and then when I finally update, it's a slow chapter. Ah, well, I hope you're still reading? All CC, of course, is still appreciated, and I need to thank all my reviewers so far! Cheers! — Loki


	9. A Midnight Visit

Seemed everything I did at one time or another would come back and bite me. This time, it bit me when I least expected it— in the middle of the night.

I'd been dreaming again, about my past (or maybe future). I'd promised myself that I'd stop reliving the events that led up to Lily and James's death after I got out of Azkaban— it hadn't happened. They came less often, or they had when I was on the run and not at Grimmauld Place, but they hadn't gotten any better when they came. It was the second one I'd had since ending up in my past, and somehow they were getting worse. The last time I'd been soaked in sweat by the time I'd finally woken up.

Something jolted me out of the street confronting Peter and back into my room at the Three Broomsticks. I rolled over in bed and sat up in time to watch Lily take a disillusionment spell off herself. I jumped. "What're _you_ doing here?" I demanded.

"Asking questions I want a straight answer about," she snapped, then paused. "Nightmares?" she asked me softly, sympathetically.

"Well, yeah," I muttered, yawning. "So . . . what did you want to talk to me about?"

"This." She dug into the pocket of her robes for a moment, then came up with the letter I'd written her. "What's going on?"

"Why're you out of the school at night?" I countered.

"I'm as perfectly capable of breaking rules as . . . as . . . as Potter and Black," she announced defensively, glowering. I thought it best to take a look at the letter. _I'm dead_, I couldn't help but think when I found what had irked her— I'd signed it with my real name rather than "Scott". I was just too comfortable with Lily!

"Well?" she asked when I looked up.

"Turn around so I can get up and we'll talk," I told her sensibly.

Lily muttered something but turned around, letting me get out of bed and find a pair of trousers. "You can talk now," I muttered as I pulled a shirt on and started looking for robes.

"_I_ thought it was perfectly clear," she answered, turning back around. "Why did you sign the letter with Black's name instead of your own? Originally I thought he'd stolen it and written his own reply— he _would _make that mistake." I had grin weakly at that; oh, he had alright. "But his handwriting isn't that neat. It _wasn't_ funny."

"No, it wasn't," I agreed under my breath.

Lily tossed me my robes. "You know, you'd be able to find stuff a lot easier if you actually put them away where they belonged."

"The thing about being a bachelor is that there's no woman to nag me about these things," I muttered, putting it on. "Why'd you come all the way over here to ask me about it?"

"So I could be sure you knew what I was talking about," Lily snapped. She paused for a moment or two, looking oddly at me. "Scott, what exactly were you dreaming about?"

"Nothing," I answered, but the moment I said it I knew it was a little too quick.

She tossed me a hairbrush, and I muttered something about how she really ought to get back up there before she was in even more trouble. "Really, Scott, I'm not stupid," she reminded me. "Something's wrong, and I want to know if I can help."

"You can't," I told her shortly. "It's three in the morning and I'm having nightmares. We both go back to bed and I'm fine about dawn, isn't that the way it goes?"

"_Scott_. . . ."

"Reliving the night my best friends were murdered," I growled, concentrating more on the rats in my hair than on her. "Happy?" She was silent for long enough I turned from the mirror to her. She was pale against her red hair, and it took a minute for me to get the guts to ask her what was wrong with _her_. "Lily?"

The night your best friends were murdered?" she repeated softly. "No wonder you're having nightmares, or that there's shadows in your eyes."

I glanced back at the mirror. Azkaban had faded everywhere else, but it was still— literally— staring back at me in my eyes. "Lily, it's been . . . a long time. Really. It just comes back to haunt me from time to time." I swallowed. It was still sore, and talking to Lily about what would eventually be her own death _hurt_.

"Did you ever get any _help_?"

"Huh?"

"Did you ever see anyone about it? I mean, you must've talked at the funeral, but since then . . . maybe professionally?" she pressed.

"I couldn't even make it to the funeral," I growled, running the brush through the back of my hair again, and running so hard into so many knots I yelped. "There was some little _rat_. . . ." I faded off sheepishly, picking some of the hair I'd ripped off out of the brush and trying to calm down.

"I'm listening," Lily prompted.

I swallowed again and shook my head. I was _not_ going to start crying over this. It hurt, yeah, but it was an old wound. "I'm not sure . . . I don't really want to talk about it."

Lily wandered over and through the mirror I watched her put a hand on my elbow. "But if you're having dreams about it, maybe you need to let it out."

"You've been reading too many books on psychology," I told her uncomfortably, still picking at the brush but not shaking her off my arm. "Why don't you try to something else. . . . What've you been up to lately. . . ?" I fumbled for a change of subject, too awkward to get anywhere.

"You're avoiding it," Lily pointed out.

"I've been avoiding it for years," I retorted. "Lily . . . I'm fine, really I am."

"This is coming from the man that asked me if there was anything left in his brain that hadn't already been addled," Lily added with a weak smile. "Scott. . . ."

"Yes?"

"How long has it been?"

I chose not to give her the real truth of the matter— almost fifteen years, the first twelve of which were spent waking up every other night in a cold sweat, shouting at my imbecilic self. Instead, I gave her the length of time it would be before it happened to her. "Five years."

"_Five years_? And you're still like this about it?" she asked, wide eyed. "I thought it might be something like five _months_."

I finally looked from the mirror to her. She was there and very much alive, her grip on my arm had tightened. It would leave marks when she finally let go, and we both knew it. "Lily . . . you don't . . . I could've prevented it, really."

"Do you have idea how many people think that?"

"No, Lily, honestly, if I hadn't made one stupid mistake and done it myself. . . ." I muttered, fading off. "You don't understand. We knew someone was after them and they had a secret keeper. It could have been me, but instead it was . . . a little rat we'd thought was a friend."

Lily's grip on my arm tightened again— I winced under it. "Obviously you didn't know. Scott, you need to get _help_," she told me firmly. "If you don't you'll be having these dreams— and dodging the question of if there's anything wrong, forever. Really . . . Sam's dad's a Muggle, but he's also a therapist, and he'll know some things about magic. If you'll give into your stubborn pride, I'll get her to write him."

"_Lily_. . . ." I started.

"I mean it, Scott," she told me firmly. "You need to talk to someone if it's been five years. If it'd been only one I'd refuse to leave until you'd talked to me, but I think you need someone who knows what they're talking about."

I glared at her. She matched me jaw set. I'd known her for . . . . eleven years, really. There was no getting past her. "Fine. If it'll make you feel better, Evans."

"Trust me, it will."

"It'll make _me_ feel better if you get back up to the castle and in bed. You're not getting in trouble because _I_ pulled a stupid prank, okay, Lily?"

She nodded, cast a disillusionment spell again, and I heard her walk off.

**

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Author's Note:** Really not what I expected from a lift in my writer's block. Hopefully, however, it worked. And all of you that demanded to know what happened when Sirius signed his name have the answer. I think my blocks gone so I can return to weekly updates, but knock on wood (**Sirius:** Or find some kind of creativity charm. . . .) To be completely honest, the letter signing was a spur-of-the-moment thing I caught but fit with the "uncertain" points of the plot too well.Almost seventy reviews? Wow. . . . Gotta thank everyone for that. And everyone who was helpful, pointing out things and asking questions (and yes, I am a little scatterbrained, but that's what's fun in life). Until next time, Cheers! — Loki 


	10. Reminding Padfoot

I was quiet the next day, quiet enough that David asked me if I was sick or something. I told him I was fine, but I know he wasn't quite convinced— after all, I was playing solitaire with exploding snap instead of blowing experiments up by accident.

David probably wasn't the only one who noticed I was behaving differently— Rosmerta asked me late that evening if I'd finally given up on flirting with her. I'd been seated by the fire in the main room and managed a weak smile. "Not really, I'm just not in the mood."

"You _have_ been rather quiet, you know, Scott," she told me.

"Yes, well. . . ." I faded off, unable to come up with a good enough answer for that.

"There's not anything wholly wrong, is there?" she asked absently. "Unless I only think I know you, normally you'd have pulled out some stupid pick-up line the moment I mentioned you're flirting with me, after all."

"Normally, yes, but really there isn't anything wrong. Like I said, I'm just not in the mood." I shrugged and glanced out the window. "Full moon," I couldn't help but comment.

Rosmerta looked out again. "Indeed it is."

I wasn't really paying attention anymore, however. I was remembering those moonlit nights instead, wandering around with Remus and James and Peter. The danger in it was what had driven me out again and again at least, and one of the things I remembered vividly from my school days was being there, snarling at Remus when he tried to slip off, running into James for the pure fun of tackling him, and hearing Peter's indignant squeaking as one of us stepped on his tail.

"Now you seem to be in another world entirely," Rosmerta announced.

I was jolted back onto earth, staring at the redhead and startled. "Well, sorta. . . ." I admitted. "I'm going to go get some air."

As soon as I was beyond Hogsmede, I changed into the dog. I hadn't done it since I'd landed in my past, and it felt good to charge into that forest again, the same way I'd felt when I'd done it right after Azkaban. I actually glanced over my shoulder once, in search of James or Remus. It was almost winter— the air had a nip to it and though it wasn't quite the same thing, I felt the old spirit of adventure again.

I didn't go too deep, just far enough I could barely smell anything that reminded me of Hogwarts, making myself comfortable on the well-worn deer or unicorn trails that crisscrossed the forest. I was sick of being Scott— tonight I was Padfoot, a Marauder and an adventurer, again. I'd deal with Scott's problems— Lily's need to get me help for those dreams, work, and getting used to just being Mr. Barker— in the morning.

A bat shrieked past me, I turned around and chased it for a few hundred yards, until I could no longer see it through the trees, snapping at it playfully. I felt gloriously free again, in a way I hadn't since I first got out of Azkaban and gotten the memories of these nights back.

A howl erupted, and I turned with some surprise. _Idiot, you chose the wrong night to remind yourself who Padfoot was!_ I backed up quietly between two trees, figuring I'd just let the four of us slip past me.

Only it wasn't the four of us. It was just Moony, who came past me at full run. Without thinking, the Marauder instinct took over and I came streaking after him, until I pounced and tackled him, throwing the werewolf onto his back and glaring down at him. Remus whimpered and apparently tried to look small and submissive. That startled me— I'd never seen him act like he was honestly afraid.

James came running in, Sirius on his heels. Where Peter was I'd never guess. It only occurred to me when I saw my sixteen-year-old self how much bigger I'd gotten as far as the dog went. Quickly, I jumped off Remus and made for a deeper recess of the forest. Sirius barked behind me, and I couldn't help but turn around, meeting eyes with him. He nodded once, almost as if he recognized me, which was ridiculous. I woofed back and started to walk off again.

An indignant squeak sounded beneath one of my front paws. I glanced down, and found myself holding a rather large rat in place by the base of the tail. Peter stared up at me, squeaking up a storm. I hesitated, then lifted the paw. Peter, who had also looked thoroughly terrified, scrambled off. I watched him go, dodging roots in hot pursuit of James and Sirius. As soon as I'd heard the last of the rustling, however, I had to hit the ground, panting and trying to laugh— which dogs weren't made for.

I'd stopped Remus's running off and stepped on Peter. What more of the past could I _want_?

It was a moment or so before I actually came to my senses. Hopefully Peter would think I was a more normal stray, but whatever the other three thought might not be the best thing. I had my doubts they'd make a connection between Sirius's and my personalities at all, but Remus and James, at least, had had a way of surprising me completely before. I just hoped it wouldn't be too much right now.

I stood up, shook out my coat, and made my way out of the forest, hoping the results of tonight wouldn't put me in too embarrassing a position. If they made a connection, after all, I'd have to think of some kind of an excuse. _I'll deal with it when it comes,_ I told myself.

_You always say that,_ my responsible side reminded me.

_And I always deal with it,_ I snapped back at it, conveniently forgetting the number of times my responsible side had warned me of the danger of an embarrassing situation I'd gotten into anyway.

At the edge of the forest, I changed back and wandered through Hogsmede into the Three Broomsticks halfway calm again. I was a little sweaty, but it was nothing that jogging a couple of kilometers wouldn't have done.

Rosmerta was seated by the fire, directing the broom to sweep the room, when I came back in. The broom swept the dirt out as I came in. "You're tracking it back in," she complained, and the broom swept the footprints I'd left back out again.

"That tends to happen when you're trying to get it out while I'm trying to get in," I told her dryly.

She shook her head. "Nice walk?" she asked. "Or jog, more like. Isn't it getting a little cold not to grab a jacket or something on your way out?"

"A little. I don't think it's too cold, though." I shrugged, closing the door as the broom bustled back in. "The bats aren't hibernating yet, at any rate."

"Bats?" she asked, obviously startled. "Where were you?"

"The forest."

"You're kidding me," Rosmerta announced, standing up. "You've got to be completely _mad_ to be jogging in the Forbidden Forest at this time of night— and during a full moon, too!"

"So I like risking my neck. I thought you might have known me well enough by now to tell that."

"Maybe I do," she answered, flicking her wand. The broom flew back into its corner, and she tucked the wand back into her pocket. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to bed, so if you wouldn't mind going upstairs yourself."

"I'd be honored to escort you."

Rosmerta sniffed. "Your being honored will have to wait, Barker," she answered, heading in the direction of the stairs. "I'm perfectly capable of getting up there on my own."

I grinned impishly. "G'night, Rosmerta."

**

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Author's Note:** Do you have any idea how difficult it is to try to get two pretty major subplots going _at the same time?_ Well, yeah, you probably do, but that's beyond my point. I'll get deeper into the subplot with Sirius's dreams next chapter . . . or the chapter after that, depending on the status of this one. Padfoot (this particular name is easier to spell)— I see what you mean about Lily, although she also doesn't seem the type to keep going at something making a friend uncomfortable when he's obviously got a problem already, either, and I kind of played up on her tendency to worry about people a bit (if that makes sense). This is going to sound strange but it's for another fic and addressed to anyone— what's the driving age in England? Thanks for the reviews, keep 'em coming! Cheers! — Loki 


	11. Moony

David, being the wonderfully perceptive person he is, didn't even notice when I was too tired to toy with dangerous substances the next morning and played solitaire with three packs of Exploding Snap instead. I'd notice the same thing I had on the run, however— when I got to bed tired, I usually didn't dream, and until I got an owl from Lily I didn't even want to think about dreaming or her and James's death. I s'posed if she actually convinced me to go talk to Sam Walker's father I'd have to think about it then.

Over the next couple of days, I started to relax, and late night runs started to become a part of a routine— though it didn't always work when it came to warding off nightmares. Then I found I was in for another shock.

At least this time I wasn't in bed— as David had charmingly put it, I had "started to grow up"— in other words, I'd actually taken work home. After grumbling enough, David had gotten me to attempt to help him with the accounting and quickly realized I told no lies when it came to my abilities with numbers. Actually, I was crossing out and trying to connect the various results of experiments at the time, trying to find something I could do with it.

I heard the door open and turned around, figuring Lily had come in person to tell me what Sam's father had said. "You should've sent a letter," I grumbled, squinting to see the human-shaped bit that didn't precisely fit with the rest of the scene— Lily in an illusion. I didn't see it. I raised an eyebrow and groped around, finally coming in contact with something silky. At least as curious as I was slightly annoyed, I took hold of it and yanked. The invisibility cloak slid off.

"Remus?"

Moony nodded and took the cloak back. "James'll kill me if he figures out it's gone," he pointed out, folding it, which mildly surprised me— Rem was hardly our neatest member; that title had to go to, surprisingly, Peter. I supposed he was trying to avoid explaining.

When he looked up, I nodded to chair. "What brings you here?" I wanted to know.

Remus sat down but didn't answer me immediately. Finally, he started haltingly, toying with the edge of the cloak. "You remind me of Sirius in more than looks, you know. . . ."

I stiffened— was this going where I thought it was going? "Well, I've heard the same thing from Lily Evans— some on, I've had two Gryffindor sixth-years here so far and both of them are the prefects. You might as well spill while my patience holds out."

He bit his lip, but finally looked up, and a question poured out faster than I thought it would. "There are secrets you don't tell anyone, you know, right?"

I shook my head— I wasn't going to let him know that I'd known his secret for ver twenty years about now. "Yeah— I've had one you wouldn't believe for the last couple of moths. Why d'you ask?"

"Well, I'd kinda like to keep mine!"

I nodded. "Fair enough. Keep your secret out of it, but I'd like a straight answer if you don't mind," I told him evenly, wondering if he'd manage it fully or not.

"There was a black dog in the Forbidden Forest last full moon, only it wasn't a black dog. . . ." Remus muttered, this time meeting eyes with me again.

"What d'you mean?" I asked him, trying to act surprised.

"A black dog," Remus repeated. "A shaggy, black dog that someone might have mistaken for a grim. A dog with a humans eyes. An _animagus_. I ought to be able to recognize a human shaped like an animal."

"And what does all this have to do with your sneaking out of Hogwarts in the middle of the night and telling me about it?" I asked, still trying to sound surprised.

Remus lifted an eyebrow. "I don't sneak out for nothing, Scott. I know from the look in your eye you know exactly what I was talking about."

I pretended to think about it. "You were the wolf. . . ."

Remus looked affronted. "What _are_ you talking about?" he demanded, putting on roughly the same look of surprise I'd been wearing.

"The wolf. This dog you were talking about, he tackled and pinned a wolf that night. The wolf curled up in submission, until another dog, a smaller one, also black and shaggy, and a stag came along. Then the first dog took off. I believed," I added, "that they accompanied by a fat rat."

Remus's brows lifted even higher.

"I think," I added absently, "that we both know by now that we're speaking of the same event."

"But . . . how did you know Peter. . . ." Remus muttered under his breath. Then he shook his head and changed tactics. "There's no 'Barker' on the list of registered animaguses," he accused.

"Nor is there a Black, a Lupin, a Pettigrew, or a Potter," I pointed out, acting as if I thought Rem was an animagus instead of a werewolf— it simplified things, and all in all probably made him a bit more comfortable with the situation. I smile flittered across me face. "We all have secrets, eh, Remus?"

He flushed furiously and shook his head, looking back down at the cloak in his hands. "We have our reasons," he answered hotly.

"And I have mine," I answered coolly.

"I'm quite well aware of that," Rem snapped back at me. "Goodness knows that being able to transform takes long enough. The only way to get it in a moment is too . . . too get bit by a werewolf. . . ." He faded off, shrugging. I let him be.

After a couple of moments, though, he cocked his head. "Is Scott Barker your real name?" he asked.

"And if it wasn't d'you think I'd actually tell you it wasn't?" I asked him with a grin. "I can honestly say it's the only one you'll ever hear."

Remus shook his head. "That doesn't tell me an awful lot," he pointed out.

"Little you'll hear from me will," I admitted. "The real question was why it was _you_— I thought you were the good boy when we met."

Remus chuckled. "People think that. Then they get to know me. Sneaking out, yeah, that's more James and Sirius, but they wouldn't treat it seriously— I wanted to know. You and Sirius are too much alike, even if you're quite a bit bigger than Padfoot is."

"Oh, I dunno. Sirius isn't at full height yet. Are you gonna tell them?" I added, trying not to think how much it might change things if we knew there was another unregistered animagus in the vicinity.

"Only if thy catch me— and to say the least, you don't live with Padfoot and Prongs for years without picking up a few tricks. I can almost guarantee you that James'll never know I borrowed his cloak. Then again, if I do, I might tell them I'd snuck off somewhere else."

I couldn't help but grin slightly. "The other two probably would've. You'd probably best get up to the castle before they— or worse, McGonagall— find out you're missing. Not to mention you should be asleep by now at your age."

Remus nodded absently. Slipping the cloak on, he disappeared, and I opened the door, letting him slip out before I shut it. I ought to be sleeping, too, though, come to think of it.

I had another dream, this one one of the strangest I'd had in recent years— Remus hadn't been there when I was arguing with Lily and James about secret keepers, but in the dream he was. I caught what I was saying, running over the words I remembered and constantly regretted. Breaking off midsentence, I turned to Remus. "Talk me out of this, mate," I pleaded with him. "You don't know how important it is. Please!"

He looked at me oddly for a moment, then shrugged. "I could try , Sirius," he said softly. "But when was the last time I actually managed to talk you out of anything?"

"No," I yelped. "Rem, you've got to!"

"It'd be easier to move a mountain," Remus reminded me. "Care to tell me _why_ it's so important that you be talked out of this particular venture?"

"Because Pete's the traitor!"

"Peter?" Remus turned the idea over in his head. "You failed the sobriety test on your way over here, didn't you? Pete's Muggle-born _and_ not the most talented dueler either us have ever met. Voldemort would as soon kill him as look at him, Padfoot."

"No, Rem, listen. He—"

I chose that moment to wake up, thrashing and sweating over it. I glanced out at the window— still pre-dawn darkness. I rolled over and buried my head in the pillow, muttering. Hopefully they wouldn't come twice in one night, because I didn't think I could handle another one like that.

**Author's Note:** New chapter! Took me long enough (apparently not enough of you knocked on your computer desks. . . . **Sirius:** Or— **Me:** Don't even START, Padfoot), but anyway, I tried to tie in both subplots in this one— did it work? Moony— no, I didn't mention it before. I didn't stretch Rem's character too much, did I? Still, I appreciate all reviews, comments, etc. And about the driving age— I'll get to that fic eventually, but thanks much for helping me sort out the planning! Cheers! — Loki


	12. Sam Walker

I continued to try to settle— after several months, I still couldn't deny that it hadn't really happened— trying to banish my past and most people's futures from my mind for the time being— no one could do a thing about it until it came along, after all. And Remus's visit gave me a little to chew on while I waited for things to pick up. How much had Moony actually guessed about who I really was and where I came from?

The next weekend came with more Hogwarts students. Considering I hadn't heard from Lily since her little romp in the night, I figured I had to keep an eye out for her and ask her what was going on. I never expected her to appear at Zonko's— Lily had never precisely struck me as someone who planned pranks out; she might play a joke on someone spontaneously but mostly she left mischief-making to us.

Nevertheless, I turned around that morning from trying to explain to David that quite simply, we were out of Filibuster's Fireworks— again— to find Lily waiting for me with a bottle of invisible ink. "So Black and Potter will stop reading my notes to Alice and Sam," she explained when I lifted an eyebrow. "And if I can drag Sam away from Roger long enough, I need to talk to you during your lunch break."

David glanced at his watch. "It's about that time anyway, if you really want to abandon me with the hellions that come into this shop," he murmured.

"You knew when you took the job that Zonko's was frequented by nothing _but_ hellions," I reminded him mercilessly. "Therefore, you've only got you to blame."

"I take it I'm sworn to secrecy on the reason?" Lily asked wryly.

"I'm humoring you," I answered shortly. "Just humoring you. There's no other reason for it, because I'm _fine._" I knew how much Lily could worry, and since she found me on the grounds I hadn't precisely acted as the most sensible person in the world— I could be sensible in hindsight, and that was it.

"Come on, then," she answered.

"Be back soon," David murmured wryly. "God alone knows why I got this job."

Lily half-dragged me through the streets, still arguing with her on whether or not I actually needed help. I was just a little uncomfortable with the idea of going to someone— and a Muggle, no less— about something that I couldn't even say was in the past or future. Time was a confusing thing.

I nearly balked when she dragged me into the coffee shop, which was the unofficial place to drag a girl on a date. "If she's with her boyfriend d'you really want to interrupt?" I murmured.

"Someone's mental health is more important than her relationship with Roger, which was doomed from the start because he's an arrogant _git_, and Sam knows it. The former, at least," Lily added as an afterthought, waving to a girl with strawberry blond hair. Sam Walker sighed, made some excuse to Roger, and joined Lily, while I escaped outside in case this was one of the weekends me or Remus had a date— Peter was still nervous around anyone of the opposite sex and James had grown stubborn enough he refused to go out with anyone but Lily.

Sam and Lily followed me outside, Sam complaining about Lily's dragging her away from her date. "I need to talk to him if we're going to have any kind of relationship—"

"Oh, shut up, Sam, that relationship was doomed from the start because he's an idiot," Lily rebuked.

Sam shook her head and did a double take when she saw me. "Maybe I need to owl Dad for _myself_," she commented. "It's like looking at Black."

"The coincidence of the century, it seems," Lily answered, "they both claim they're not related."

"Well, the quarter century," I murmured. And we weren't related— I wasn't a family member, I was _him._

"So what exactly's going on?" Sam asked, toying with a strand of her strawberry blond hair. She was pretty, and a good quidditch player to boot— I remembered only giving up on her out of some respect for Roger— enough that I didn't chase after girls with boyfriends. "Lily said something about a recurring nightmare?"

A yes, the other reason I'd stopped chasing Miss Walker— there was simply no getting around the fact that her dad was a therapist. No one with a long-standing problem was safe from Sam Walker, the girl who had once tried to cure a house elf's fear of heights by taking him up onto the astronomy tower and been convinced Snape had a inferiority complex— I'm not saying she was wrong, just that we all got sick of her talking about it. "Well, several."

"And they are?" she prompted, almost irritably.

"Look, a couple of years ago my best friends got murdered, because their secret keeper decided to turn traitor— I could've been the secret keeper instead of him, and if that's not enough to make me feel guilty, than nothing is."

"How long ago was this?"

"Five years," I mumbled to no one in particular, not looking at her.

Sam turned to Lily. "I'll talk to my dad." She turned back to me. "Since you live in Hogsmede, I'll have to be the middleman, but I'll get you an appointment. Lily's right, you know— you do need to talk to somebody." With that, she went back inside the coffee shop to return to Roger.

"That said, I think I'm going to get into the point of lunch break— to eat lunch," I announced mildly.

"Mind if I join you?" Lily asked. "You're better company than Sam's been lately, snogging Roger in the halls and talking nonstop about him and quidditch and the Wilburne Wasps contacting him about drafting him onto the team when he graduates. I'm just glad he _is_ graduating— he'll be out of my hair and maybe Sam'll find someone I can actually stand."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, I dunno— she seems a rather stubborn person."

"You have _no _idea— oh, God, no, more trouble."

I looked where she was and shook my head— us. Well, Me and James; Peter and Remus appeared to be elsewhere. "Hullo, Evans," James said brightly.

"Say it and I will push you off the astronomy tower next time we're up there," Lily announced icily.

"Why so suspicious?" James asked, adjusting his glasses and feigning hurt— anyone that knew him knew he was only pretending to look surprised at Lily's attack.

"Prior experience. Get out of here, Potter."

Sirius shook his head. "Lily, this is a public street," he pointed out. "It's not like you can precisely tell us to get out of it. Besides, I didn't hear anything you could be upset about."

"It's coming," Lily answered grimly.

"Suspicious, suspicious. What would I possibly say that will upset you?" James asked with a grin. I exchanged glances with my younger self, well aware that I wasn't the only version of me suffering from the strong desire to throttle my best friend at the moment.

Lily pretended to think about. "The list is too long to recite. Now, why don't you go over to do whatever it is you want to do and leave me alone? I'm sure the Shrieking Shack can yell at you as easily as I can, and _it_ doesn't have anything better to do!"

"The Shrieking Shack only tends to scream during the full moon."

Sirius reached out and grabbed James's shoulder. "Maybe we should get out of here, James. You two've already caused one scene today, and I'd rather cause one involving Snape's reaction to our returning his improved potions book. . . ."

James rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, let's get it over with. Evans, are you ever going to give in so I can get a date?"

"Ask me that question after you actually try to _grow up_," Lily snapped, stalking off in the direction of the Three Broomsticks.

I lingered for another minute, contemplating exactly what I was going to tell them about the confrontation. "You know, maybe if you actually tried to take her advice. . . ."

"Yeah, Scott, and what then? Become Head Boy?" James wanted to know.

I couldn't help but grin. "Exactly."

**

* * *

Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait, I've been busy (I've got semester exams next week). I also had to do a double-take when I looked at my review count, sure it must have been malfunctioning. How did I get a hundred reviews? (**Sirius:** Easy. People read it and were nice enough to click the little button and inflate your ego.) That's enough from him— as usual when he opens his mouth. Anyway, I've got to thank everyone, especially those that offered constructive criticism— Me, to answer your question: I never really considered the fact that Lily might not be comfortable around Sirius. He's not precisely a dangerous man anymore, even though he obviously doesn't have his head screwed on entirely straight. . . . Again, thanks everyone for the reviews and the assurance I didn't stretch Remus too much, and I apologize profusely for the wait. Cheers! — Loki 


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